


bad for me

by froggoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Cars, M/M, Smoking, mentions of vomiting but non graphic, mentions of weed, oh here we go im so bad at tagging, tags will be updated as i go probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggoo/pseuds/froggoo
Summary: He listens for a crunch of sneakers walking on asphalt. One, two, three clicks of a lighter, and a sigh as whatever is inhaled is exhaled. Two knocks on a window.“Come out here,” Yifan says, barely muffled in his proximity.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 5





	bad for me

**Author's Note:**

> trying with this fic again in a vain attempt to rebrand. working title is bad 4 me 2: electric boogaloo. still don't know whats really going on, but ive had this idea for probably over a year now. kyungsoo's audi is also my mom's car. unbeta'd, just as a warning.

“Holy fucking  _ shit,  _ pull over pull over pull over  _ right now _ or I’m gonna be sick.” Baekhyun grips the handle above his door with white knuckles, a match to Kyungsoo’s hold on the wheel. 

  
  


Kyungsoo jerks the wheel to the side and drives his car half off the shoulder. “Not all over my dash, you aren’t.” The passenger side door is thrown open and shut again. Baekhyun is on his knees on the evening damp grass before Chanyeol can get his long legs out—as well as the rest of him—and hold back Baekhyun’s hair while he dry heaves.

  
  


There’s a considerable length of pause. It is broken only by the gross sounds of Baekhyun retching and Chanyeol patting his back and muttering things like, “You know movie theater popcorn makes you sick. Why do you insist on getting it every time?” Baekhyun, between gags, responds with a choice gesture that relies heavily on his middle finger and a strained  _ fuck you _ . 

  
  


Kyungsoo drums his fingers on the faux leather of the wheel. Chanyeol left his door open, and the cold is slowly creeping in from the back. In the backseat, Jongin reaches over a shoved-in-the-middle Sehun to attempt to shut it. It’s a difficult feat, considering the limited space. Sehun leans over and closes it for him. 

  
  


A few minutes pass. Eventually, a steel gray Supra slips onto the shoulder behind them. In his left side mirror, Kyungsoo can see Joonmyun’s features lit up by his phone screen as he walks towards the Audi.

  
  


He rolls down his window, and Joonmyun sticks his head in. His hair is windswept and annoyingly perfect, making him look like a runway model rather than a twenty-something accountant with an interest in baking, western movies, and fast cars. “Problem?” he asks, as if he can’t hear Baekhyun on the other side of the car.

  
  


Kyungsoo points to Baekhyun’s shadowy, hunched figure anyway, halfway blocked by Chanyeol’s looming one. “Couldn’t stomach the speed limit.” 

  
  


“Or the lack of one thereof,” Jongin calls from behind him. One glance in the rearview mirror tells Kyungsoo that Jongin isn’t feeling at his best either. He’s a bit green.

  
  


Joonmyun glances at the three remaining boys in the car, then sighs. There’s Coca Cola and a hint of pot on his breath, one of which must be a gift from the passengers in his car. It’s not the coke. “Let me take him. You can have Jongdae. He keeps begging me to catch up with you, anyway.” 

  
  


“Hell no. He’ll stink up my interior. Unless you can bathe him first, keep him. I’ll go slower so Baek can contain his fluids and you can keep up.”

  
  


There’s another pause. Joonmyun stares him down. Kyungsoo can’t tell exactly what it is that Joonmyun wants, but he feels obligated to give it to him anyway. As the son of a politician, it’s a good look for Joonmyun to have. He probably inherited it from his father, as well as most everything he owns. (All Kyungsoo inherited from his father was bad eyesight, the inability to grow a decent beard, and his budding alcoholism.)

When the brief tension is gone, Joonmyun lets out a sigh. He stands back and looks up and down the road. “Let’s wait for the others, at least. They got caught at a light.”

  
  


“Sorry excuse, isn’t it,” Kyungsoo mutters. 

  
  


A dark silhouette comes up behind Joonmyun and wraps its shadowy arms around him, the outline only defined by the Supra’s dimmed headlights. “Are we there yet,” Minseok mutters into Joonmyun’s neck. “It’s fuckin’  _ freezing _ out here.” His voice is deep and rough from the weed. His hands travel down, down towards Joonmyun’s hips, then up, up, up underneath his disgustingly expensive leather jacket. The familiarity between the two isn’t shocking to Kyungsoo or any of the others—Minseok is touchy when he’s high, Joonmyun is touch-starved. They’re a match that all of them predicted. 

  
  


Joonmyun’s hands leave the windowsill as he turns around, walking Minseok back towards his car with softened words reserved for him alone. Kyungsoo rolls his window up.

  
  


Now, the only noise comes from the sound of the Audi’s engine. Baekhyun has finally quieted down outside, as has Chanyeol. In the back, Jongin and Sehun are sharing headphones and watching something on Jongin’s phone, sitting impossibly close to each other. 

  
  


Just as Kyungsoo is sure he can’t take another moment of almost-silence, a third car rolls up. The driver parks but doesn’t turn off the engine, and Kyungsoo can hear the thud of three squeaky doors closing at staggered intervals. 

  
  


“The fuck is going on?” someone says, just loud enough to be heard through metal and glass. Kyungsoo doesn’t pay attention to the answer.

  
  


Instead, he listens for a crunch of sneakers walking on asphalt. One, two, three clicks of a lighter, and a sigh as whatever is inhaled is exhaled. Two knocks on a window. 

  
  


“Come out here,” Yifan says, barely muffled in his proximity. His cigarette smoke fans over the glass. Kyungsoo looks up at him as he’s taking another drag and waves him back so he can get out and follow him outside.

  
  


The air is crisper than he expected, but it isn’t unwelcome. Winter will be upon them soon, as is evident in the chill of the evening. It makes Kyungsoo realize he left his jacket in the trunk. 

  
  


When he turns around to fetch it, something is dropped onto his shoulders. It smells like cologne and cigarettes and musk. Yifan is now jacketless, standing behind Kyungsoo and flipping his Zippo over in his fingers. At least he has long sleeves on.

  
  


“Looked cold,” Yifan mutters, offering a second cigarette to Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo accepts it with a small word of thanks, leaning close so Yifan can light it. He’s drowning in the jacket, pushing his arms through the massive sleeves as the cigarette hangs from his lips, but at least it’s warm.

  
  


They stand in silence for a while. When they’re both down to the filter, Yifan offers another, but Kyungsoo stops him with a wave of his hand. 

  
  


With a raise of his thick brows, Yifan lights himself another anyway. “Your couch open tonight? Han keeps looking at his phone like he wants to eat it alive, so he’s got The Girlfriend over tonight, and Zitao’s staying with the kids.”

  
  


“It’s always open.” Kyungsoo leans against the hood of the Audi. “There’s a  _ Lost  _ marathon at one.”

  
  


“Fuck yeah.” 

**Author's Note:**

> well that was sure something. pls leave kudos if u like it, comment if u really feel like it but no pressure ofc. i don't know when i'll update this, if ever, so don't count on anything but uhhh smash that subscribe button if you feel like knowing when i do. am taking beta applications, pls hmu im desperate. smooches.


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